


Give Me Love

by littlelarrypop



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Daddy Kink, Harry has a lot of issues, I'll add more as I go, M/M, Self Harm, Underage - Freeform, a lot of bottom/sub Harry, harry is 17, louis is 28
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelarrypop/pseuds/littlelarrypop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knew it was wrong, knew it wasn't right to let men twice his age use him. But he couldn't help it. He only felt good about himself when someone was bending him over and telling him he was their good little boy. Honestly, Harry just wanted someone to give him love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I haven't written anything outside of school since I was twelve, so please bear with me. I'm sorry if it isn't too good, but it should get better. Also, this story is totaly fictional so.

Harry let out a whine as the man rammed himself into the boy again and again, the stranger's grunts and the boy's whimpers filling the room along with the sound of skin slapping skin.

"Such a fucking slut you are," he growled as he leaned over Harry, his chest now against the younger's back.

"A-Am I b-being a good boy for you, d-daddy?" Harry whimpered with a moan following only a fraction of a second later when the man shifted his hips to rock deeper and harder into him, putting pressure on his sweet spot now.

"No. You're a fucking _whore_ ," he growled as he gripped a fistful of his curly locks and yanked, causing Harry to cry out in pain accompanied by the man's moaning and sloppy thrusts that signalled he would be coming quite soon.

Harry blinked back tears of both physical and emotional pain, now focusing on the way the man's cock twitched inside of him before he was ejaculating into the condom. He didn't even check to see how Harry was doing before he pulled out, which caused Harry to shudder. He slid off the condom and tied it before tossing it, sitting next to Harry's shaky form on the bed.

The boy had rolled over onto his back, now sniffling and shaking as he blinked back tears. The man was right. He was a whore. He was dirty and worthless. He wasn't anything but disgusting. He was just a flaw altogether.

"You can leave now. My wife'll be home soon. Don't think she'd appreciate finding this when she gets here," the man mumbled and left, heading to what Harry assumed was the bathroom when he heard the shower water begin to run.

He felt sick. He was a homewrecker now too. He looked down at himself, seeing his member still hard and flush against his pudgy tummy and sighing at the marks on his body. Cuts. Bruises. Scars. His erection would eventually go away. He wasn't in the mood to try to get a quick wank in.

He stood and pulled on his briefs, followed by his black skinny jeans and just a purple Jack Willis hoodie rather than a T-shirt, and then he slid on his brown boots and was out the door. He called for a cab and the ride home was only ten minutes, giving the driver his payment before he got out. He sighed quietly and walked up the pathway, pulling his key out of his bag and unlocking the door. He wrinkled his nose a bit as he walked inside, the house reeking of alcohol.

He really should've been more accustomed to it by now. His guardian had always been someone to drink often, and there were times that Harry would come home to the man totally wasted or unconscious. 

"Thomas?" Harry called, instantly regretting it when the man came staggering towards him, taking a swig of vodka and glaring at him.

"What did I say about you calling me that?" He grumbled, raising a hand and chuckling when Harry flinched. "Pussy boy. Go to your room."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Harry mumbled and weaved around him, getting into his room and locking the door behind him. He laid on his bed and sighed, the quietness now allowing all his negative thoughts to run free without distraction. 

He was a cheap whore who didn't deserve to be alive. It was no one's fault but his own. He was fucked up and absolutely worthless. He wondered if his father could sense this and that was why he walked out on him and his mother when he was two. 

Harry didn't know a thing about his biological father, not even his name, but no one ever tried to change that. Well, his mother did try to give him a father figure when she remarried a year later. However, that only lasted two years before the man couldn't bear taking care of a child any longer. It was another two years before Harry had another stepdad, and he was tied with Thomas for the worst. He had gotten Harry's mother into horrible things, such as drugs and alcoholism, and it was a long time before she was clean. That married was a rocky three years. At the age of fourteen, yet another man was brought into Harry's life to play the father role. A year into the marriage, Anne filed for divorce and wanted no custody over Harry whatsoever, which hurt more than anything. He didn't know when or why his mother had stopped loving him, or if she ever had to start with, but he knew it hurt for her to give him to some man who hated him. He didn't abandon the boy, seeing as he could use him as his personal slave and punching bag. So, Harry didn't consider him his dad or anything of the sort, just his legal guardian- who was now about to kick down the door.

"Harry! Open this fucking door!" Thomas yelled, kicking the door and causing Harry to whimper as his eyes fluttered open. An hour had passed and his cheeks were wet, nose stuffy and lips a bit swollen which told him he must have cried himself to sleep for a bit. It definitely wouldn't have been the first time, and doubtfully would be the last.

"I'm sorry. I'm coming," Harry yawned and sat up, seeing he had a notification from the app he had frequently used to hook up with older men. He slid his phone under his pillow and unlocked the door, Thomas scowling down at him as usual. 

"I've been calling you for ten minutes, what in the hell are you doing?"

"I was tired so I took a nap," he lied, letting out a sharp cry when Thomas slapped his right cheek hard enough to make his head turn and his cheek sting, eyes welling with tears.

"Don't fucking lie. You've snuck someone in here again, haven't you? Fucking tramp. Get your ass down stairs and make me something to eat," he growled and grabbed the boy by the front of his hoodie and jerked him out of his room. 

Harry quickly hurried down to make him a sandwich, sniffling and trying to wipe away his tears faster than they could fall. He whimpered to himself in fear when there was no bread, praying he wouldn't be hit again. "W-We're out of b-bread. D-Do you want me to get more?" He asked quietly, peeking into the den where the man had stomped off too. 

"I guess," he grunted and Harry nodded, going up to his room to get his phone before he grabbed Thomas' credit card. 

He was more than eager to see who had messaged him, although he didn't check until he was walking down the street and saw it was yet another man he'd be planning to hook up with. He was nice, and had been talking with Harry for a little over a week now. It was nothing new though, just sharing pictures and speaking of sexual things. However, Harry was finally going to send the message he didn't know he would get to send. 

He opened the message that just simply said:

_Hey_

He typed in _Hi(: Would you like to finally meet up? I'm at the little bakery in town._  and pulled his hood over his head, getting a bit chilly. He frowned at the next reply. 

_No. You're fucking weird, Styles._

_What?_

_You're a weirdo. You send nudes to old guys so they'll  fuck you. That's disgusting. And now the whole school knows, you faggot._

Harry was beyond confused. And then it all made sense when there was a picture of a few guys from the footie team attached.

Everyone bullied Harry in someway or another, but these few jocks were the worst. Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, and Niall Horan. They didn't cut the boy slack for anything. 

He felt sick and nauseated again. He was now standing at the front doors of the cute little bakery, looking up and glancing at the 'help wanted' sign before he walked in and took a seat. He opened all his social media apps and sure enough, they had exposed him to everyone.

Harry clamped a hand over his mouth as his eyes watered, tears spilling over onto his cheeks and his lower lip quivered. Ever single picture he'd ever sent to those boys unknowingly. And he couldn't help the sob that escaped him at all the comments on the bit of pudge he had and his bruises and scarred body. He couldn't do anything but scroll through it all, sobbing quietly. He did eventually put his phone in his pocket, but didn't stop crying. There was almost no one in the bakery anyways. 

He was hunched over and had his head hung down in shame, sniffling as tears streamed down his cheeks, when the man sat in the little seat in front of him in the booth.

"Um, excuse me, sir? Are you okay?" A soft voice questioned. A male, bit with a slightly higher pitch and a bit of a nasal rasp to his tone. Harry liked it.

He looked up, and it felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. The man was gorgeous. Beautiful chestnut hair slicked up into a professional looking quiff, eyes the color of the arctic ocean and a bone structure people would kill for. And oh, his stubble just made Harry go weak in the knees. All he could think of was how nice it would feel to have it scratching against his inner thighs, not that anyone had ever really tried to please him like that before. However, looking at just how gorgeous and nice the man was, it easily made Harry forget about all the pain he felt for a few second, emotional and physical.

"I-I'm fine." Harry finally spoke, wiping away his tears quickly and sniffling. 

"Are you sure? You were sitting all alone and crying.. Doesn't sound fine to me," He said, keeping his tone light and gentle. When Harry didn't answer, just looked down and shrugged, the man glanced at his watch and sighed. "Sorry, I've really got to be going. Call me sometime if you'd like. I wouldn't mind setting up an appointment with you," he gave him a friendly smile and a card before he stood and waved at the boy as he walked out of the door.

Harry looked down, a bit perplexed at first, and then read the card the large letters at the top. 'Dr. Louis Tomlinson.' He was a therapist. Harry looked over the information and then out the window, watching the short man get into his car and drive off. He glanced back down at the card and knew it wouldn't be the last he would see of the man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully that wasn't too shitty. I just kind of wanted to introduce Harry's situation here. Thank you for reading! xx


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad about the response I got for the last chapter(: It may not seem like much, but it means a whole lot to me. Just a warning, this does include a few somewhat graphic self abuse parts, and I would hate to trigger anything with anyone. But I believe that's it! Enjoy(: x

Harry awoke the next morning to the loud blaring music from his alarm on his phone with the usual aches. Meaning, his rear and anywhere he'd been hit the day before. 

He knew it wasn't going to be a good day. Not only was it Monday and gloomy outside, but school had also started two hours ago. 

He sat up with a whimper and rubbed his eyes, pushing his curls out of his face and yawning as he stretched a bit. He reached over and opened his nightstand, pulling out a little bottle of pain pills and pouring out two of the capsules into his palm. He swallowed them without water, wrinkling his nose a bit at the bitter taste as he stood. He winced at the pain, but he'd be fine soon or later.

He limped into the bathroom and turned on the water to fill the tub, shutting and locking the door before he began to rid himself of his clothing. He didn't change after he'd gotten home from the bakey. He just cooked for his abuser, hid the business card in a safe place, and went to sleep.

He shut off the water when the tub was filled with it, climbing inside and sighing when he felt the warmth of the water surrounding his body. 

He wasn't happy though, not in the least bit. He was a right slut. A whore. A tramp. A harlet, floozy, hussy, whatever term you wanted to use. He bit his lip to keep from sobbing, although he let tears spill onto his cheeks and drip off of his jaw line into the tub water. He was rigid, laid back with his arms on the sides of the tub and hands gripping the edges as his eyes closed and he tried to calm himself.

But he couldn't. 

He could die, so easily, right now. All he had to do was slip under and inhale the water, let it fill his lungs and strangle him and drown him until he couldn't fight it back anymore. It could all go and away, all the pain and all the bad things causing it. 

He took a deep breath and slid under, entire body now submerged except for his bent knees. He opened his eyes and felt them burn slightly, but he just ignored it and could feel the urge to breathe getting stronger and stronger.

He exhaled, watching the bubbles rise to the surface, and tried to see how long he could hold out. It wasn't very long. He told himself it would be okay, just inhale nice and deep and he'd be okay. Only, this wasn't the case. He began to inhale and planned to just breathe the water, but instinct make him bolt up and begin to cough and choke on the water he'd inhaled. He gripped at his chest, feeling it along with his nose and throat burning, and took a long time before he stopped hacking and had began to sob. He had his knees up to his chest and his arms around his legs, rocking and crying harshly. 

He was so fucked up. He couldn't do anything right, not even kill himself. And he was so, so worthless. 

He eventually got up anyways and showered and brushed his teeth quickly before dressing himself in sweats and a hoodie, pulling on his worn out boots and beginning the trek to school.

 

 

 

He got there just in time for lunch to almost be over, and when he stepped into the cafeteria, the loud chattering decrescendoed down to complete silence, which was then replaced with soft whispers as he was stared at and he knew what everyone was thinking. Knew what they had assumed he was doing when he hadn't been at school all morning. He fought back tears and got his tray, beginning to walk out the back doors and not noticing that someone's foot was stuck out and into his path. He tripped, of course, and the cafeteria erupted into laughter when he hit the ground with a _thud_ and his lunch spilled onto his shirt.

He whimpered as he got up and looked to his right to see a table full of guffawing jocks.

"Get fucked so hard you can't walk, faggot?" Liam howled and Harry's face scrunched up before he was running out of the lunch room. 

He tried not to cry until he was in the bathroom, but the bell rang to go to classes and he changed his route to go to his locker instead. He was crying silently as the halls flooded with kids and he could hear the snickers. 

He attempted to ignore it all and put in his combination before he pulled the latch and opened the door. And what happened next was mortifying. Someone, although it was obvious who, had filled his locker with blown up pictures of his nudes, and now they were falling around him like pornographic snowflakes. 

He grabbed a hoodie out of his locker and began to sob as he tried desperately to gather all of his papers. Why were people so cruel? 

No one ever stood up for Harry, even if they didn't enjoy bullying him, they just ignored it. And that was almost as bad as bullying him. 

He thought he was going to throw up. Everyone was seeing parts of his body he hadn't given them permission to see. He could hear the snickers and the whispers about the cuts and bruises, half of them being from sex and the other half from his abusive "father." 

It took some time, but he finally got all of the ones in the hallway picked up, throwing them away and slamming his locker door shut. 

"Aw, the little queer is pissed. Gonna go cry to your _daddy_ , _baby doll_?" Niall cackled and Harry's heart hurt. 

He had no daddy to cry to, no one gave a shit about him. And he'd really enjoyed the pet name before, but no one gave a shit about him. He quickly walked to the bathroom to switch hoodies, just throwing the dirty one away. And then, he heard over the intercom, "Harry Styles to he office, please."

 

 

 

"Harry, what's going on?" The counselor asked, and Harry hated her immediately. 

The woman seemed nice before, but she was way too patronizing and treated Harry like he was five. 

"Nothing."

"Obviously something. A few boys said that they found inappropriate images of you on a website," She spoke softly, exaggerating her concern.

"They're liars. They catfished me and tricked me into sending them. End of story, I'm not talking about it anymore," he mumbled, holding his backpack to his chest and staring at the ground, leg bouncing with nerves and anger. 

"Harry, are you-"

"Yes. I'm _sure_."

She paused for a moment and studied the boy before sighing. "Alright. But if you ever need-"

"I know. You're here for me and you don't judge. Its your job to pretend to care," he mumbled and left the room, walking fast down the hall to his sixth period class. It was almost over anyways, then he had one last hour, and it was easy. 

He was in a horrible mood, but he didn't know if he was sad or angry. He wanted to break down and just cry, but he also wanted to beat the hell out of anyone who looked at him. But he wasn't a violent person, which just resulted in him trying to hold back tears all the time. 

 

 

 

The rest of the day didn't get much worse, seeing as it was all girls who didn't actually confront him in his last class and he was out of that school two minutes before the final bell. When he got home, Thomas was still passed out on the couch as he had been when Harry left that morning. 

He went up to his room and sat down on the bed, dumping the contents of his bag out and looking over it. No homework. He was actually a spectacular student, kept A's all the time with the occasional B. Not that he'd ever get into a good school, or even be successful in life. He was worthless. 

And then the tears were running down his cheeks again.

He was just a highly emotional boy with a shitty life. He cried a lot. Although, it sometimes got unbearable. Enough for him to reach over, as he was now, to get the razor he'd hidden under his lamp. He pulled off his hoodie and looked at his wrists, trembling and weeping yet again. 

He took a deep breath and tried to steady his hand as he pressed the blade to the skin of his left wrist. He blinked tears out of his eyes and pressed harder, feeling it break the skin and then dragging it downwards as he whimpered. He watched the cut go red with blood as it began to ooze out and he found another place before repeating the process again and again.

He'd only made five slashes when he let out a choked sob and saw the therapist's card he'd met the day before. He sniffled and put the razor down, looking at where blood had dripped all over his sweatpants. He reached over to grab the box of tissues on his nightstand, began to lightly dab the cuts clean and then bandaging them.

He wasn't calm at all about. His crying was harsh and he was horribly shaky, have to place bandages more than once. 

He finally got himself patched up and he picked up his phone and the card. He tried to calm himself down, or at least sound calm, before dialing the number and hitting the call button.

"Hello, this is Dr.Tomlinson's office. Shana speaking, how may I help you?" A nice female voice answered after two rings and Harry took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. 

"Yes, I'd like to make an appointment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you all like this chapter and it wasn't too much. I just tried to make it a little longer, so. But yeah, thank you for reading!!xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a bit! I've just been busy with school and extra curricular things and yeah. Plus, the story doesn't get too much feedback so I didn't think many people cared. However, I'll keep it updated for the few of you who do enjoy it(:

Surprisingly, Louis had an opening that weekend. 

Harry saw the man as quite successful, so he thought he'd have to wait longer until just after tomorrow. Apparently, someone had cancelled or something, so there was an hour long slot Harry could use. 

And the thought of what could happen in an hour made Harry grin. 

And maybe, he could set up weekly sessions with the man. Maybe once a week, Dr. Tomlinson would bend him over his desk and give him the only therapy he thought he needed; getting fucked and being some man's "good boy."

He might have found his daddy, and that was the only thing that kept him alive until Saturday.

 

Friday was totally shitty at school. He'd avoided people as much as he could, but that didn't stop the dirty glares and occasional hitting and kicking he received from certain people who went out of their way to hurt Harry.

However, he wasn't as bothered. Because yes, everyone was a dickhead, but they didn't get all the wonderful attention Harry did from older men. He had never heard of anyone else having a daddy who could take care of them so well. They were probably just jealous of Harry.

The boy snorted at his own thoughts and rolled his eyes. No one was jealous of him. He was fucking disgusting. He had every right to hate himself. Deep down, he knew none of those men really cared for him, but he wouldn't admit to it. 

 

 

 

Harry had to walk to the building, using the GPS on his phone since he didn't even know the building existed. Once he'd reached the average sized, brick building, he realized it was familiar and had always been there, but he'd never paid any attention to it. He pushed open the door, hearing a little bell chime as the receptionist looked up at him with a friendly smile.

"Hi, I'm Shana. How can I help you?" She spoke in a patronizing tone, and Harry wanted to scowl at her sympathy as he mad his way over to her desk. He didn't need her pity.

"Harry Styles. I have an appointment." He muttered, staring down at the check he'd stolen from his legal guardian and written out himself. "I guess I give this to you now?" He said uncertainly as he gently slid the slip of paper towards her. 

"Yes, that's perfectly fine. I'll let Dr.Tomlinson know you're here," She said and pushed herself back from her desk, walking over to a door with the man's name carved into a gold plate hung on it and knocking before she entered. The door shut behind her and it wasn't but a moment later that she walked back out, the gorgeous male following. 

"Oh, hello there," He said, opening the door for Harry and motioning him to come in.

All Harry could do was flash him an innocent smile, which contrasted greatly with his impure thoughts, and walk into his office. 

"You can take a seat on the couch if you'd like. Its brand new and quite nice. Make yourself comfortable," He smiled as he sat in the chair adjacent to the couch. 

Harry bit his lip and surveyed his options, knowing he shouldn't try to make a move on the man too soon. He laid on the couch rather than sitting on it and faced the man, one of his legs over the back of it so that they were slightly spread.

"So, why did you feel the need to make an appointment, Harry?" Louis asked as he glanced up at the boy and raised an eyebrow at his position, although he didn't say anything. 

Harry thought for a second. Give him a cheeky line or the truth? He mentally rolled his eyes at the second choice, knowing the truth wouldn't get him what he wanted. Or would it? "Well, I'm not happy with myself," he said softly, "And I think you could help. Think you could make me feel really good about myself," he nearly purred the last bit, watching the way the man tensed up just slightly.

"Well, that is my job. To make people feel better. So yes, I can help you," Louis said, keeping his tone professional as he scribbled down a few things on his notepad. "Tell me about yourself, Harry. What makes you so unhappy?" He asked and looked up at the boy, who was repositioning himself now.

Harry had his arms folded on the armrest and his chin resting on his arms, his knees in the couch and back arch slightly as he looked at the man with an almost overly innocent expression. "Well.. If you come here I'll tell you. Don't want anyone else to hear," he murmured softly, biting his lip and looking as if it was a genuine concern of his. 

"Harry, no one's going to hear a thing you say. I promise. Its completely confidential and between you and me," Louis said with a sincere smile and Harry pouted, shaking his head.

"Please come here. I really don't want anyone to hear," Harry begged and Louis shrugged, seeing no harm in making his way over to the boy. Harry smiled and pushed himself up so he could lean forward and whisper in Louis' ear, their cheeks brushing now. "M'always so sad because I don't have a daddy to take care of me. But you seem perfect for it," he whispered as he placed the man's hand on his own arse. 

For a split second, Louis enjoyed it. Louis wanted to give the boy what he wanted. However, his senses came back before he could do anything irrational and he pulled away from the underaged boy. "Harry, that's illegal. Its not right," he said as he stepped away from him, eyebrows furrowed in disgust at himself. 

"Y-You don't want me? Its because I'm not good enough. I'm never good enough," Harry said as his eyes welled with tears and his chin scrunched up as he pressed his lips and together; tell tale signs that he was about to bawl like a baby.

"Harry.. What do you mean you're never good enough?" Louis asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Louis rejecting him. He knew there was something off about Harry. What child would pull something on a grown man like that? 

"They always leave me," Harry said as he sat down and began to curl up on the couch. "And I'm just a dirty slut. They just use me and leave, no one ever stays to care of me," he mumbled as a few tears ran down his cheeks. "No one," he choked out in a sob, crying into his knees as he wrapped his arms around his legs. 

"Have you had other men be your..your daddy?" Louis asked as he sat next to him. He was disgusted, not at the boy, but at the men who took at advantage of him.

Harry just nodded, leaning over into Louis and crying harder. "They're all the same. And now everyone at school knows," he shook his head, sniffling and rubbing at his teary eyes. "They all hate me. Because I'm dirty and worthless."

"Harry, don't say such things about yourself. You've just made some decisions that aren't good for you. Can you tell me why you made such decisions?" Louis asked worriedly as he tentatively pulled the boy into a comforting hug. He usually didn't get so close to patients unless they asked for it, but there was no denying that Harry needed real affection. 

Harry couldn't answer the man's question. He was too busy sobbing into his neck. 

And that's how the entire rest of the hour went. Louis tried to coax information out of the boy, but all he did was cry and try to get as close as he could to Louis. Eventually, the hour was up. And as much as Louis hated to, he had to send the boy home. 

"Harry, you aren't worthless. You're a human with feelings and wants and needs, and that's okay. You might not make good decisions, but that's okay too. Don't worry about any of this tonight. I hate to say it, but your time is up and you have to leave now. But I want you to go home and relax and be happy and get a good night's rest, alright?" He said softly, standing the boy up and wiping away his tears. 

Harry bit his lip to hold back another sob, but sniffled and nodded obediently. "Yes, sir, I promise," he said, watching as Louis winced uncomfortably at the way the younger boy spoke. 

"If you aren't busy next Saturday, maybe we could make another appointment?" Louis said, as he made his way over to his desk so he could pencil Harry in.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Harry said with a sniffle and a small smile. "Like a date?" 

"Harry," Louis sighed and shook his head. "Not like a date. Its a doctor's appointment. This is my job, okay?" 

Harry frowned, but nodded. "Yes sir. I'm sorry," he murmured quietly, feeling disappointed but knowing he couldn't do anything about it. 

"There's no need to apologize. Its alright," Louis said with a small sighed and handed Harry a slip of paper with the reminder of their appointment on it. "I'll see you Saturday?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly and Harry nodded.

"See you then," Harry said softly and gave him a small smile and wave before he left and began to walk home.

 

 

 

When Harry got home, he was in a somewhat good mood. He'd had someone who held him while he cried and didn't criticize him for everything he did. Maybe it was just an hour, but it was better than nothing. And he would get it again in a week. 

Yes, he was a little upset that Louis wouldn't be his daddy, but that was alright for now. All he had to do now was obey orders. Which were to go home and relax and be happy. And well, Harry thought he could only find happiness in certain things. These certain things included stripping down to just his skimpy briefs and taking pictures of himself to post online as he was now. 

'Think I'm going to bed early.. Unless daddy wants to keep me up?' He captioned it, and it wasn't twenty minutes later than a grown man was in his inbox, wanting to call Harry. And Harry took advantage of the fact that Thomas wasn't home tonight and called the man only to proceed to have phone sex with him. Harry didn't get any physical pleasure from this, since all he wanted was to be praised, and he got that as long as he kept this man happy. It was easy to want to please him, since he was just pretending the man was Dr.Tomlinson. 

"You were such a good boy for daddy," the gruff voice said on the other end. 

"Thank you, daddy," Harry hummed happily, although he was being a bit fake with it. "I have to go to bed now, goodnight!" He giggled and hung up, rolling his eyes at how fake he knew he had been during the call. It didn't matter now though. He plugged his phone into the charger and curled up under his blankets before he fell asleep. For once, he didn't feel as shitty as he usually did. And he knew it was because of the appointment he'd had today and the one he would be having in a week. 

It was okay to just be Dr.Tomlinson's patient, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you for reading(: xx


End file.
